


Hit and Run

by renn



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renn/pseuds/renn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor suspects something's going wrong with the blocks on Donna's memories. He goes to investigate, and has an unplanned, literal run-in with her....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit and Run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badxwolfxrising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badxwolfxrising/gifts).



The Doctor tinkered with the TARDIS console, hoping that the busywork would be distraction enough to trick his mind into revealing exactly what was bothering it. It wasn’t anything serious, he was quite sure of that. He had had a feeling, though, in the back of his mind for several weeks now, that something wasn’t quite right. 

He wanted to blame it on the incessant amounts of time he had been left to fend for himself lately. A lonely Doctor was a brooding Doctor, and that never worked out well (witness the end of his last incarnation for proof). Oh, he _tried_ to keep busy while playing taxi service for Mr and Mrs Pond’s honeymoon. He fought off the Shansheeth, for one thing. (Oh, all right, he had help from Clyde and Rani and Santiago, and was chuffed to reconnect with Jo again as well as His Sarah.) Then there was the little matter of Kazran and Abigail and that ship (that Amy and Rory were inconveniently shagging on) crashing into that planet. And, really, the whole incident with Toulouse-Lautrec and Aristide Bruant _dans son cabaret_ was better left to the mists of time.... 

Still, no matter what he did, he still had the feeling that something, somewhere, was _wrong._

He was quite convinced that the wrongness had nothing to do with his being temporarily erased from existence. Having Sarah and her lot remember him confirmed that time was once again as it was before it was wrong. No weird time bubbles, alternate universes, or the like had been caused by his disappearance and reappearance. So... what the hell could be making his Time Lord senses tingle? 

Footsteps clomped into the console room. “Oi, Spaceman!”

The Doctor jerked at the noise, banging his head against the bottom of the console. Momentarily dazed, he blearily took in the tall ginger woman looming over him. “Donna, really, do you have to--”

“Who’s Donna?” Amy Pond demanded, arms folded across her chest and boot-clad right foot tapping.

“Oh, erm, a friend. An old friend.” The Doctor scrambled to his feet, shoving his shock of brown hair out of his face.

“Did she travel with you?”

“Yes, actually.”

“And what happened to her?” Amy inched forward, her curiosity pulling her.

“Well, erm, she went away. As all of my companions do, eventually.” The Doctor made a show of tucking away his sonic screwdriver, then busied himself flipping random switches and dials. “Where is it to this time, Amy? The twin moons of Jaxophia? The Seventh Great and Bountiful Human Empire? Well, possibly not that, you’d enjoy the Third more, with the ban on clothing and--”

“Doctor, you’re babbling again.”

He fixed her with a hard glare. “What of it? Not a crime or anything!”

“No, but--”

Rory entered the console room, interrupting Amy’s train of thought. She grabbed her husband’s hand, gave him a brilliant smile, then said, “We’d actually like to go home next.”

“Not permanently, of course,” Rory threw in. “Just that, well, we had paid for the Bahamas trip, and--”

“--we know you can get us back to it anytime you want to, but--” Amy continued.

“--we just want to make sure we actually use it.” Rory finished.

“Then we don’t have to worry about losing out on any money,” Amy added, rolling her eyes to indicate _she_ wasn’t the one worried.

Rory rolled his eyes, too, at Amy’s statement, which told the Doctor that Mr Pond would soon be asserting his right to lead sometimes in their marriage. The Time Lord smiled. He adored how Humans could evolve while traveling with him. Mickey, gaining a backbone. Rose, dear Rose, defender of multiverses. Martha, who walked a year that didn’t exist just to save him. Sarah, protector of the Earth with just a trio of teens as backup. And Donna, the most important person in the universe....

...who couldn’t, _mustn’t,_ remember her brilliance. What if his unease was due to her? He’d only suppressed her memories, her metacrisis. On some level, her melded brain surely still interacted with his. He needed to have a look-in, see how Donna was doing. Oh, how he had wanted to, before... but now that he had a different face, a different voice, a different body, it would be so much easier to actually talk to her without triggering all sorts of deadly memories. And since the Ponds wanted to go off shagging a bit more....

“Right, then!” The Doctor hopped around the console, programming in a destination with both delight and determination. “You lot actually want to take the plane to the Bahamas?”

“No,” said Rory.

“Yes!” said Amy. She whispered something in her husband’s ear, which caused him to blush.

“Yes,” Rory corrected.

“All right, then!” The Doctor slammed a final lever back; the central column shuddered to a stop. He checked a readout, then crowed, “Here you are! Heathrow Terminal 5, 27 June 2010. You’ve about two hours to get through security and onto your flight.” 

Amy whooped with glee, and grabbed Rory’s hand, dragging him back into the bowels of the ship to pack. Some ten minutes later, Rory dragged her through the console room, both carrying a large suitcase each. “Thanks,” he called as he manhandled his wife out of the ship. 

“You have the TARDIS mobile number, just ring when you’re ready,” the Doctor called after them. 

He watched them on the monitor running to the self-check-in kiosks, then claiming boarding passes, dropping off their luggage, and inching their way through security. Once he saw them make it past the metal detectors, he whirled a couple of dials, flipped several switches, and materialised the TARDIS in Chiswick. 

Just a glance, he told himself. Oh, all right, perhaps stalking her around for a day. Assuming she still lived in Chiswick, of course. That lottery win could have set her (and Shaun) up anywhere. He could always inquire of Wilf, though-- and, with luck, wouldn’t have to reveal himself in the process. Not that he didn’t love the old man like a father; rather, he felt quite ashamed of his previous self’s actions post-Crucible. He didn’t want to have to suffer Wilf’s disgust... or pity. Or, worst of all, gratitude. Gratitude was such a poisoning emotion, after all, and he had had _quite_ enough of that! 

No time like the present, though, he told himself.  Off to find his Donna.

The Doctor opened the TARDIS door and strode outside. 

***

“Stupid. Bloody! HEADACHE!” Donna shouted, slamming her purse against the side of her dark blue Ford Focus. “Always making me so bloody late...” She yanked the door open, threw her bag inside, and kicked the side of the car in frustration and anger. 

Her grandfather came out of the house, worried. “Donna, love, are--” 

“I’m fine, Granddad. Just fine. Nothing a doctor who actually knew what he was doing couldn’t sort out.” She saw Wilf’s face fall and sighed. She shut the car door, then walked back to the house, enveloping her grandfather in a tight, loving hug. “Aw, really, it’s just stress.” 

“Not your fault Shaun walked out on you....” Wilf began. 

“Sure it was. Roving eye, a pop tart half my IQ and twice my sex drive... Las Vegas, there they go.”  Donna let Wilf go. “Really, good riddance. At least the divorce proceedings are rolling along smoothly. That’s the least of my worries.” 

“Still, something’s bothering you, if you keep waking up with these headaches.” 

“Gramps, you worry too much. It’s sinuses or something, honestly. Clears up once I’m vertical for the day. And now, I really have to get moving, if I’m going to make that meeting on time.” She gave him a peck on the cheek, then returned to her car, getting in and driving away in a much calmer state. 

Once away from the house, though, thinking got the better of her. The headaches were worrisome, but what was worse were the dreams. Running, running, running, oh so much running-- away from danger, but with Gramps’ weird friend John Smith. Together they fought and won against hideous creatures out of some cinematic nightmare-- and they had a brilliant time doing it. And then... she always woke up, with a killer headache that only several painkillers and half an hour under the shower, the multiple jets pounding her sinuses as she turned her face to the warm water, relieved. 

Her GP thought it sinusitis and sent her to a specialist. The specialist concurred, and advised neti pots, duct cleaning, and an allergy work-up. She wasn’t allergic to anything, though, so she gave up consulting with doctors, since it was not necessarily covered through the NHS and really, anything paid for out-of-pocket was probably some sort of scam. Donna wanted to be careful with her fortune, after all. 

She glanced at the time on her dashboard. Damn. She really _would_ be late, if she didn’t step on it. Not the best way of making an impression on a foundation she hoped to work with.... She pushed harder on the accelerator, glanced up, saw a tall, wild-haired hipster standing in the middle of the street, and slammed on the brakes. The car skidded despite its anti-lock brakes, plowing into the seemingly-oblivious young man despite Donna’s wishes. The young man bounced off the hood and onto the street. Donna threw the car into Park and rushed to his side. 

The Doctor had just registered it was Donna driving the car before it hit him. As he bounced off the hood and onto the ground, he smiled. Trust her to make a noticeable entrance! He landed sprawled on his back, both the back of his head and his left hip hurting fiercely. Ooh, he might need a lie-down for a bit.... 

Donna loomed over him then, her flame-coloured hair hanging down, partially obscuring the concern on her face. “Hey, you all right? I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you soon enough.” Her eyebrows drew together then, and in a sharper tone, she added, “What the hell were you doing just standing in the middle of the street? I could have hit you a lot harder, you know! You’re lucky I saw you when I did!” 

The sudden mood change was _so_ Donna that the Doctor couldn’t help but smile. “Hello!” He said gently. 

Donna rolled her eyes. “Yes, hello, fine, you must have hit your head, yeah?” 

The Doctor prodded the bump on the back of his head with several fingers of his left hand. Wincing when touching a particularly sensitive spot, he said, “Bit of a bump, but I should be right as rain in... oh.” He felt something sticky; taking a look at his hand, he noted it was covered in blood. “Not as good as I thought, I guess.” 

“All right-- stay right there! I’m going to call for an ambulance.” She started to head back to the car; the Doctor grabbed her wrist with his non-bloody hand. She glared at him. “What?” 

“No ambulances.” 

“You need to be checked out at Casualty. You could have a concussion.” 

“I assure you, I’m perfectly fine.” He scrambled to his feet, wincing as he put weight on the leg attached to the bruised hip. “Nothing a bit of a lie-down, clean-up, and cuppa couldn’t cure.” 

“You’re obviously hurt.” 

“Banged-up, really, nothing life-threatening or even serious.” 

Donna raised an eyebrow at this, folding her arms across her chest. “Oh, and you’re a doctor or something, so you’d know these things.” 

The Doctor’s cheery expression fell; Donna looked at him worriedly, concerned he might have taken a turn for the worse. His bright smile returned almost immediately. “Actually... I’m a nurse.” 

“Really.” 

“Really!” 

“And what’s your name, then, Mr Nurse?” 

The Doctor started to give his usual alias, but remembered that it was for all of Donna’s intents and purposes attached to his previous incarnation. Since he was supposed to be a nurse, he might as well be the best one he knew. “Rory. Rory...Pond.” 

“Well, then, Nurse Pond, if you’re not going to come quietly to the Casualty Ward, then I guess you can come with me to get cleaned up. I’m Donna, by the way.” 

“Fair enough.” He got into Donna’s car with her. They drove back to Wilf’s house in silence, the Doctor stealing glances at his former companion out of the corner of his eye. She _seemed_ the same as she was before she was, but he knew better than anyone that first impressions could be deceiving. 

Donna knew her victim kept looking at her. Probably worried she was going to do him in-- or, worse, take him to the nearest Casualty anyway. Odd, that, not wanting to go. But, being a nurse, he probably knew what he was doing, and quite possibly knew that the nearest Casualty wasn’t all that good a location. She shrugged it off, and turned her attention to what she should be doing. 

File a police report? Well, depending and depending, might not be needed. He didn’t seem the sort to sue out of hand, but one could never tell. Still, wouldn’t hurt to have her lawyer draw up some document dismissing any legal claim on the matter. Might have to give a bit of a pay-out, too. Oh, she hated that. 

The Doctor watched Donna’s expression change. Thinking over everything, she was, and how he missed that. He missed everything about her, actually, and being so close to her now only made his hearts ache worse over what he had done. Stupid, stupid Time Lord. He had a lot to fix, if he could get the chance..... 

Donna pulled the car up in front of her grandfather’s house and turned it off. “Well, here we--” She took in the Doctor’s sad expression. “Oh, you’re in a bit of pain, yeah? Let’s get you inside and sorted.” The Doctor merely nodded, following her inside docilely. “Bathroom’s through there.” Donna waved a hand toward a hallway. “Second door on the right. I’ll get the kettle on and then we can have a proper discussion about what to do once you’re cleaned up a bit.” 

“Thanks.” He headed down the hall. 

“Use the yellow towels, please. They’re easier to clean than the other ones.” She listened for the bathroom door to click shut before retrieving her mobile from her purse. 

Wilf came in from the kitchen. “Donna! What...?” 

She gave him a self-deprecating grin. “Aw, I really did it now, Gramps. Put the kettle on, yeah? I’ve got to postpone my meeting, then I’ll be in to explain everything.” 

“If you say so, darling.” He retreated to the kitchen, put the kettle on, then puttered about, looking for something sweet to have with the tea. 

***** 

The Doctor assessed himself in the bathroom mirror. Well, he looked none the worse for wear... from the front... with his clothes on. Other than a minor scraping on one of his jacket patches, his clothing survived intact. He grabbed a hand mirror that hung off a hook by the medicine cabinet, using it to better see the bash on the back of his head. Parting the hair carefully, he noted that the abrasion had already stopped bleeding and had begun to scab over. It should be as right as rain in another day or two. Still, the blood congealed in his hair looked awful. He plucked a yellow hand towel off the rack and, wetting it with cold water, cleaned up the back of his head. He rinsed it out as best he could and replaced it on the rack. 

He then lowered the toilet lid, sat down, and, sighing, buried his head in his hands. He really did it this time, didn’t he? He only meant to observe. Now, he had already talked with her, lied to her, and accepted her hospitality. It could only go downhill from here. He needed to leave as soon as possible! 

Well, as soon as he had his cuppa, at least. 

*****

“My girl, what were you _thinking?_ ” Wilf wondered as Donna wrapped up her tale. “You could have done serious harm to that young man!” 

“I know, Gramps, I know.” Donna stared at her tea mug, not wanting to meet her grandfather’s eyes. “I was so wrapped up in being late for the meeting....” She sighed. “At least the foundation was understanding about it. Guess they really need my money....” 

“Perhaps.” Wilf’s heart cracked a little more. He hated how Donna hated herself sometimes-- how anything good came to her because of luck or (now) because of her money, how she couldn’t do anything on her own because she was tall, and old, and flabby, and without skills, and, above all, _ginger_. She needed a reminder of how important and wonderful she really was-- and that reminder was the one thing she could never, _ever_ have. 

“Oh, c’mon, Gramps, you know they’re not _really_ interested in my ideas. It’s not like I’m clever or insightful or anything like that.” She noticed Wilf was about to protest, and held up a hand to quiet him. “I know _you_ think otherwise, but--” 

“Are those jammie dodgers?” The Doctor asked, wandering into the kitchen. “Because I love jammie dodgers, and-- oh, they are!” He sat down between Wilf and Donna, helping himself to a half dozen biscuits and a mug of tea. He sipped the tea appreciatively, bit into a jammie dodger, and grinned. “Absolutely splendid! Almost makes up for being hit by your car, Donna.” He realized both Humans stared at him, Donna with a patented sense of annoyance and Wilf with some curiosity. “What? Oh, I know, I was supposed to be asked first, wasn’t I? That’s the trouble, I’m rubbish with social niceties, can never keep straight what to do when.” Wilf’s eyebrow rose, and he gave the Doctor such a look of suspicion that the Time Lord knew he had to divert his attention somehow. He offered his hand to Wilf and said, “Rory Pond, sir, happy to make your acquaintance.” 

“Wilfred Mott. I’m Donna’s granddad.” He gave the Doctor’s hand a firm shake and went back to studying him. 

Donna noted her grandfather’s strange reaction to the young man, but wrote it off as him being too protective. “So, I take it you were right in your assessment?” 

“What? Oh, my injuries? Just some bruises, like I said, possibly a hip pointer injury, but nothing that I need to go to Casualty for. I’ll just follow up with my regular doctor, and--” 

“Make sure you send any bills to me.” 

“Sorry?” 

“Oh, I’m sure it’s probably all covered under the NHS, but you never know.” 

“Blimey! Gosh, thanks! But haven’t you better things to spend your money on?” 

Donna sighed. “Oh, you’ve recognized me from that awful article in _The Daily Fail_ last week, haven’t you?”

“Article?” the Doctor parroted. 

“Yeah, you know, ‘lottery winner runs off to Las Vegas with a glamour model, contests divorce proceedings.’ With a big-arse photo of Shaun and his bint smiling outrageously and an insert photo of me all growley and splotchy.” 

“Oh, Donna! I’m so sorry!” He instinctively took her hand in his two, rubbing it gently as he continued, “That shouldn’t have happened, not at all.” 

“Ah, it’s all right, money brings out the worst in some people, so it’s just as well. He would have left me eventually, anyway. And, really, at least now I won’t have to fight with him over proper usage of our winnings. Well, my half of the winnings, at any rate.” 

The doorbell rang. Donna started, then realized what the Doctor had been doing with her hand. She snatched it back, gave him a warning glare, and went to answer the door. 

Wilf, meanwhile, remained silent, still studying the Time Lord. “Sorry, do I have egg on my face or something?” The Doctor wondered finally. 

“You’re awfully young to be wearing a bowtie,” Wilf commented. 

“Bowties are cool. Very hip. Very happening. Very--” he broke off. 

Donna had returned to the kitchen, a constable in tow. “See, there he is, officer, right as rain and eating us out of jammie dodgers.” 

“That’s as may be, but there’s still a report needing to be filed. And a ticket needing to be written.” 

“What’s all this, then?” the Doctor asked, standing. 

“Ms. Noble here hit you with her car, correct?” 

“Well, yes, but--” 

“We had someone call in about it.” 

“And so--?” 

“And so we have to complete some paperwork.” The officer’s voice took on that tone that told the Doctor he thought he was dealing with an idiot. 

“What paperwork? Nothing’s broken, she’s apologized, can’t we let things be?” 

“Hang on,” Donna said, “I do deserve a ticket for hitting you, at the least.” 

“But I’m not hurt! And it’s not like I’m going to press charges!” 

“Surely, officer,” Wilf threw in, “If he’s not going to press charges, it doesn’t need to be written up.” 

“Well...” 

Donna glared at all three men. “Look-- I deserve that ticket and I’d better get it or there’s going to be trouble.” 

“Now, Ms. Noble--” the officer began. 

“Do you _want_ me to report you to your supervisor?” 

“No, ma’am.” Properly put in his place, the officer pulled out his citation book. “Sir,” he added, looking at the Doctor, “I’m going to need to see your I.D.” 

“My--?” The Doctor paused a moment, trying to fathom what he meant. “Oh, yes, that.” He pulled the psychic paper out of his jacket pocket and flashed it at the policeman. 

The officer scribbled down what he thought he saw. “Hmm. Leadsworth, eh? Bit far from home, aren’t we?” 

“You might say that, yes.” The Doctor sounded a bit irritated as he tucked the psychic paper back in his jacket. 

“What brings you to town?” 

“Does it really matter?” 

“Just trying to make small talk, sir. You came to Chiswick because...?” 

“Seeing the sights, really. Bit of a holiday.” 

“And where do you work, sir?” 

“Um---” The Doctor tried to remember the name of the hospital Rory had worked at. 

Donna saved him from embarrassment by asking, “What’s with the third degree, officer?” 

“Assuring myself there’s been no memory loss. The informant said something about a head injury.” 

“Royal Leadworth Hospital, of course!” The Doctor exclaimed, smiling giddily at his sudden recall. “Nurse in the coma ward.” 

“And today’s date?” 

“27 June, 2010.” 

“Your parents are...?” 

“Look, Sunshine,” Donna threw in, “Could we get on with the ticket writing? I have a meeting I have to get to.” 

The officer sighed. “Very well.” He wrote down several more things on the ticket, signed it, and said, “Your court date is in two weeks, unless you rather pay the fine.” 

“I’ll pay the fine,” she said, snatching the ticket from him and stuffing it in her pants pocket. “Thank you for your attention to this matter, Officer. Shall I see you out?” 

“Um... no thanks, I know the way....” The policeman hightailed it out of the kitchen. 

“I really have to go,” Donna said once she heard the front door slam. “I was only able to put the meeting off two hours.” 

“What sort of meeting?” the Doctor asked. 

“I’m meeting with some board members of A Charitable Earth. Y’know, that philanthropic organization that does all sorts of work for the needy and the environment.” 

“And pets,” Wilf threw in, “Don’t forget about them.” 

“And pets,” Donna added, grinning affectionately at her grandfather. “I have a few ideas I want to throw at them, see if they’re willing to take them on from an administrative angle while I fund them.” 

“That’s absolutely brilliant!” The Doctor exclaimed. 

“Yeah, well, it’s something to do. Can I drop you somewhere on the way?” 

“What? Oh, no, no, I’m fine. I’m more than fine!” 

“All right, then. It was nice meeting you, Rory Pond. I hope our paths cross again.” She offered him his hand; he hesitated a moment, then grabbed it and shook it firmly. 

“Oh, I hope so, too.” 

“I’ll see you later, Gramps, yeah?” Donna added, reclaiming her briefcase and heading out of the kitchen. 

Wilf and the Doctor both looked after her, lost in thought until after the front door shut and the car engine groaned to life. Wilf recovered first. “So, young Mr. Pond-- “ 

“Um, yeah, thanks for your hospitality, Mr. Mott, but I’ve really got to go.” The Doctor grabbed a final jammie dodger from the plate popped it in his mouth, and, giving a final wave, all but bolted out of the house. 

He didn’t get very far. He barely got to the front door before his hip told him in no uncertain terms that running wasn’t going to happen today. With a surprised yelp, the Doctor crashed to the floor. 

“You all right, son?” Wilf called out from the kitchen. 

“Apparently not.” The Time Lord struggled to his feet and limped over to the sofa, settling down with an “oof” as Wilf entered the room. “I think I may need some ice.” 

“I figured as much.” He held out a plastic bag full of ice cubes. The Doctor immediately applied it to his sore hip, sighing as the coldness penetrated. “Looks like you’ll be staying for awhile,” Wilf observed. 

“Oh, no, I can’t! I absolutely can’t!” 

“You’ll lie there until Donna returns, and then she’ll drive you to the urgent care clinic, and then she’ll drop you off at your hotel or hostel or wherever it is you’re staying.” 

“But--” 

“I’ll brook no denial!” 

The Doctor looked sheepish. “Yes, sir.” 

“Now, you lie there and rest. Would you like another cuppa?” 

“No thanks, you’ve been more than kind already. I’ll just lay here and be helpless for awhile.” He folded his arms across his chest and scowled. 

Wilf chuckled. “How about some reading material, then? You do read actual books, right?” 

“Of course I read actual books!” 

“Just checking. Youths these days with their iPods and Internet and all that....” He checked the side table for something suitable. “You probably don’t want to read _The Duke’s Temptation_ or _The Dummy’s Guide to eBay,_ do you?” 

“No, not really.” 

“ _Cheryl Cole: Her Story_?” 

“Oh, Kroll, no!” 

“ _The Time Traveller’s Wife_?” 

“Oh, all right, if you insist....” 

Wilf passed over the paperback, then retreated back into the kitchen. He poured himself another cup of tea. He didn’t know what to make of that young man. He had never seen him before, yet he seemed so very familiar. His hazel eyes held so much sadness in them, as if the young man had seen far too much death and loss. His hand wasn’t as warm as it should have been. He kept focusing on Donna as if he were drinking her in, trying to retain every second of their time together. And the way he talked-- all manic one moment, so serious the next. And so very petulant when put in a position he didn’t want to be in. 

If Wilf didn’t know better, he would have sworn the young man was the Doctor. 

But... that was impossible, wasn’t it? A person didn’t just go change his face, not even a Time Lord. Still, stranger things had been known to happen, and perhaps the Doctor had a way of cheating death that would involve changing his appearance utterly. But... if it _were_ the Doctor, why didn’t he say so? Surely he wouldn’t have come back if he did not have some way of fixing Donna permanently. (Although Wilf loved that Donna was able to dump Shaun, and that she was able to approach A Charitable Earth with her ideas despite not believing much in them, he also knew that his darling granddaughter was only a shadow of the self she had grown into traveling with the Doctor.) 

Above all, though, Wilf recalled that the Doctor was a master of subterfuge. If it _was_ him in the sitting room, and if he _insisted_ on pretending to be someone he wasn’t, well, old Wilf was going to humor him... for now. Still, wouldn’t hurt to search for “Rory Pond Leadworth” on the Internet, would it? Wilf headed for the computer. 

****

Donna’s head began to throb the moment she stepped into A Charitable Earth’s lobby. All sustainable-wood paneling and flooring, only several huge photographs of Earth from space decorated the towering space. (She could never bear seeing photos-- or even art-- of the Earth from space. Always set her head off.) At one end, near the lifts, a security guard monitored her approach from behind his desk. The closer she got to the station, the more her head hurt, so that by the time she reached the guard, she could barely see. “Here to see Ms. McShane,” she managed. 

“ID, please.” 

She rummaged around in her purse, drudging out her wallet. She had to concentrate hard to  pull out her driver’s license. The guard took it, scanned it into his system, and returned it along with a stick-on visitor’s badge with her name and photo predominantly on it. “You’ll want the penthouse, Ms Noble. Use any lift on the left bank.” 

“Thanks.” She slapped the badge on, returned her license to her wallet, and jammed the wallet back in her purse. She stomped then to the lifts, her sheer determination to plow through the headache keeping her feet moving. She punched the “up” button, glaring at the display indicating which car was where. A car had better show up pronto, before her headache got to the point where she couldn’t see. 

As if in answer, a soft ping heralded the arrival of a car. Donna positioned herself to dive into it, but found the way blocked by an older, petite brunette in a tweed skirt suit who was exiting the car. Said woman gasped, eyes widening as she noticed Donna. The reaction so confused Donna that she instinctively asked, “Do I know you?” 

“Erm, no, I don’t think so, I was, erm, just surprised to find someone standing so in front of the doors.” She attempted to slip past. 

Donna, however, started swaying. “Sarah Jane, please---” she managed before fainting. 

Sarah Jane Smith kneeled down next to Donna’s prone form, checking for pulse and temperature. Both seemed much too high. She glanced toward the security guard. 

“I’ve called for an ambulance,” he reassured. 

“Great, thank you.” Sarah sighed. Donna remembering her name did not bode well. It could only mean that the Doctor’s blocks on her memory were failing. She dug out her mobile and searched her contacts for a specific person. Punching the call button, she waited for the line to be answered. “Martha-- it’s Sarah Jane. I accidentally ran into Donna, and, well, she collapsed. An ambulance is on the way for her..... oh, absolutely, the moment I know where she’s going I’ll let you know... All right, thanks.” She tucked her phone away, then brushed the hair off of Donna’s overheating face. 

*****

The Doctor gave up on the book early on-- really, it was just too, too close to his relationship with River. He also hated pretending to read at the iceberg-pace Humans read at. He thought about throwing the book across the room, because that would be entertaining for a nanosecond or two, but decided he didn’t want to upset Wilf. Instead, he dropped the book onto the carpet next to the sofa on which he sprawled. Folding his arms across his chest, he glared at the ceiling and willed for his supposedly-superior Time Lord healing abilities to kick in and take care of his stupid, stupid hip. 

Wilf wandered into the room. He pulled a chair up to the sofa, sat down, and declared, “I see we have a lot to talk about.... Doctor.” 

“I’m not--” 

“The Internet is really a wonderful thing. It turns out that a young nurse named Rory Williams married his childhood sweetheart Amy Pond in Leadworth yesterday. And you were at the party, described in one Facebook post as ‘Amy’s imaginary friend come to life.’” 

The Doctor made a face. “Stupid humans and their social networking. Do you know, Wilf, in 20 years time, the youngsters will be running around 24/7 uploading a feed of everything they see or hear. Mind you, it will get a fair number of them in trouble! And-- and here’s the kicker-- they actually miss out on--” 

“Doctor, you’re rambling.” 

“Yes, I’ve noticed.” 

“Have you come back for Donna? Have you figured out how to fix her?” 

“Well, not as such, no.” The Doctor propped himself up on one elbow. “It’s just, well, my Time Lord senses were tingling, and I thought I’d better pop in to make sure she was doing all right. I didn’t mean to actually interact with her. But, since she seems fine, I had better--” 

“She gets headaches. Terrible ones.” Wilf sighed. “She thinks it’s some sort of chronic sinusitis that the doctors can’t sort out.”

 The Time Lord sat up fully, wincing slightly as his hip told him it wasn’t the best idea. “Are they worst in the morning?” 

“Exactly. Takes her forever to get moving. But, after awhile, she’s right as rain again until the following morning.” 

“Have these headaches been happening more often?” 

Wilf nodded sadly. “Yes. Nearly every day now.” 

“Then it’s a good thing I came along when I did. When she comes back, we’ll pop her into the TARDIS, put her in a stasis field, see what’s really going on in that brilliant head of hers and then--” 

The landline ringing interrupted him. Wilf excused himself before shuffling over to answer it. “Hello?... yes, this is he.... what?! How?!... oh, right, right, of course. Where’s she being taken? ... thank you. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” He hung up, fixing the Doctor with a worried look. “Donna’s being taken to the casualty ward.” 

“What?” 

“Apparently she fainted right after she arrived at her appointment. Is your TARDIS nearby? We have to get to her!” 

“Well, erm, no, it’s actually, oooh, perhaps a mile away.” The Doctor stood, wincing with pain upon putting weight on his injured hip. “And I’m not sure I’m up for the walk,” he added with an apologetic grin. 

“We’ll take the bus, then. I’ll grab m’jacket and we can hobble over to the stop.” 

“Yes, fine.” The Doctor made it sound like it was anything but fine, and really, it wasn’t. He worried about Donna, if perhaps his mere presence (despite the lack of triggering appearance) was what caused her to collapse. He needed to see her. He also needed his TARDIS, because he suspected that the best way of protecting her would be to hook her up to the equipment in the medical bay until he could figure out exactly what was going on in that brilliant brain of hers. 

Wilf returned, buttoning up his wool jacket. He had already shoved a knit hat on his head. “Ready?” 

“As much as I can be.” 

The muffled trill of a mobile phone interrupted. The Doctor looked around for the noise, then realised it was coming from his own jacket. A sheepish expression on his face, he dug it out. “Amy, how many times have I told you-- oh! Martha! Sorry, I-- there’s a _what_ on the phone display...? Really? I--” He turned pale. “Oh, right. I see. Well, I’ll be there as soon as I can. And, no I _don’t_ have a cold. It’s just how I sound now!” He slapped the phone cover shut and jammed the device back in his coat. “Apparently Donna ran into Sarah, and that probably triggered her collapse.” 

“Sarah?” Wilf’s face scrunched up, trying to place the name in relation to the Doctor. “Oh, that reporter with the nice boy and fancy computer. I saw her on the Sub-Wave network.” 

“Yes, that’s my Sarah.” The Doctor put an arm around Wilf. “We’re going to have to get the TARDIS into that hospital-- which means we have to get to the TARDIS. If I locate her on a map, could you tell if there’s a bus route that goes near her?” 

“Of course! I’ll go get the map....” Wilf disappeared for a moment, returning with a folded piece of paper. 

The Doctor snatched it out of his hands opening it up and tracing roads with his finger. “Here,” he finally announced, pointing at a spot on the map. 

Wilf frowned. “We’d best take a taxi, then. I’ll ring for one.” 

*****

Sarah paced back and forth in front of the curtained-off cubicle that protected Donna from the prying eyes of the rest of the casualty ward. The admitting staff wouldn’t let her be in the cubicle with Donna, since she had no proof of being related to the ginger. Instead, she had to wait outside, increasingly worried as the monitoring equipment emitted all sorts of unnatural beeps. She hoped Martha would arrive soon. 

Martha Jones breezed into the ward, shouldering into a white coat. “Sarah, hello, traffic was awful. Donna in there?” She indicated the cubicle with a wave of her hand. 

“Yes.” 

“Great. Come on.” Martha slipped through the curtain, Sarah following right behind. The petite doctor grabbed the chart from off the bed. “Hmm. High fever, elevated pulse, slight dehydration. Blood work is in process; they were waiting for my arrival before ordering the MRI.” 

She returned the chart to its home before pulling out a small, alien scanner and running it over Donna’s body. Checking the readout, she sighed. All over the map, and most of the readings she didn’t even understand, other than knowing they weren’t Human-norm. She tucked the scanner back in her lab coat pocket and manually checked the state of Donna’s pupils. 

“How is she?” Sarah ventured. 

“Something’s going on internally, that’s for sure. Really need the Doctor here to tell more.” 

The familiar wheezing of a certain time-space machine filled the ward then. The curtains in the cubicle billowed as the TARDIS materialised in the hallway right outside. The doors opened; Martha took that as her cue to unlock Donna’s gurney and roll her inside. 

Wilf gripped the far end of the gurney, saying “This way, this way,” as he helped wheel the gurney through the console room and down the corridor. 

Sarah started to follow, then noticed the Doctor hovering over the dematerialisation circuits. “Hallo, Smith!” he greeted. 

“You have good timing for once.” 

“For once? I’ll have you know my timing has improved immeasurably since my 4th incarnation.” He jerked his head toward the central column. “Going to have to enter the vortex to help with Donna’s condition. Coming?” 

Sarah shook her head. “I have to pick Sky up from school in an hour. And, although you claim to be more accurate with time, I’d rather not take that chance.” She gave him a quick hug. “You’d better let me know how things turn out, all right?” 

“All right.” 

“And none of this sending a postcard ten years down the road nonsense. I expect a proper report-- in person-- in a timely manner.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Sarah smiled at that. “See you soon, then.” 

“Relatively, yes.” He waved her out of the TARDIS, dematerialised the ship, and hobbled toward the medbay. His hip bothered him more than ever, and he needed a healing trance as soon as possible. He paused in the medbay doorway to gather his energy. Martha had hooked Donna up to the monitors and had just stepped back, obviously not knowing what to do next. 

He bounded into the room, catching Martha in a large hug, which startled her because she had no idea who he was. “Martha, Martha, Martha, my clever girl, it’s just me,” he reassured. He gave her one last squeeze before letting her go. 

Martha stepped back, to better assess the Time Lord’s new appearance. “Quite a change, Doctor. Still, the bow tie is cool.” 

The Doctor smiled, fingering his tie lovingly. “I know!” 

Martha grinned back, then asked, “All right, what’s the plan?” 

“First, we hook her up to the monitors, which I see you’ve already done.” He checked the connections, then flipped a switch, and a blue light illuminated Donna. “All right, she’s under a stasis field now, that should stabilize her for the moment.” He looked pointedly at Donna’s granddad. “Wilf, nothing you can do now. Why not go have a cuppa or something? I’m going to show Martha here the ropes of reading the diagnostics, boring med stuff, nothing that will interest you.” 

“You let me know if anything changes with Donna, understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Thank you.” He squeezed Donna’s hand one last time before wandering out of the room. 

“All right, then, Doctor Jones...” The Doctor bounced over to a large monitor, pulling Martha with him. “This line’s heart rate, this line temperature, this line pain level.” 

“What lines? It’s all circles and squiggles.” 

“What?” He glanced at the monitor, annoyed, then, reached behind it and jiggled a few things. The display suddenly switched into a mode that Martha could read. “Better?” 

“Yes, thanks.” 

“All right-- she should be fine for the moment, just make sure that the vitals don’t change. If they do, hit this red button here--” he pointed out a control on the adjoining console-- “--and that will both strengthen the field and automatically inject the right amount of pharmaceutical support. If that doesn’t do anything, then come and get me.” 

“And where will you be?” 

“Erm... right here, I’m afraid.” A second gurney rolled into the room from a hidden alcove. The Doctor rolled it into place next to Donna. “I hurt my hip when Donna plowed into me with her car.” 

“What? Doctor! You drop trousers right this moment!” 

The Time Lord’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Martha!” 

“I’m serious, mister! You’re my patient, too, and I’m not going to have you get all superior being on me without at least a cursory examination!” 

“But, my trousers!” 

“Would you rather I just slide my hand underneath the waistband and start groping at things randomly?” 

The Doctor turned slightly pink at that. “No, ma’am.” He grudgingly undid his trousers button and zipper, and slid both trousers and underwear down just far enough so that Martha could perform a physical examination of his hip bone. She prodded; he yelped despite his best intentions. She prodded again; he slapped her hand away and pulled his trousers back up. “That’s quite enough, thank you.” 

Martha smiled. “You’re a real piece of work. If you were Human, I’d say you’d been injured several days ago. Time Lord genes working in your favor, I suppose.” 

“Nothing felt broken?” 

“No. I imagine you would be able to tell better than I if something were.” 

“Give me a hand up, please, Doctor Jones.” The Time Lord maneuvered himself on to the empty gurney, letting Martha guide his injured hip into a vaguely comfortable position. He took off his tweed jacket, and rolled it up into a ball before laying his head on it. “All right. I need you to keep an eye on both of us, Martha. I need to enter a healing trance for a bit, so I can better sort out what to do with Donna. Keep Wilf out. Tell him I’m working on fixing Donna, if you must.” 

“He’s not going to like that, you realise.” 

“Yes, I do. I don’t want to make him fret unduly about me, that’s all.” 

“Should we hook you up to the monitor?” 

The Doctor thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “No, better not, it would worry you too much.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It’s going to look like I’m 99% dead.” 

“What?!” 

“Never worry, Martha-- standard operating Time Lord procedure. All non-essential energy directed to the healing process.” He grabbed his former companion’s hand. “Thank you so much, Martha. I owe you one.” 

Martha smiled. “At least you admit it, in this incarnation.” 

The Doctor gave her a fond smile back, then squeezed her hand and closed his eyes. His grip soon slackened; his breathing slowed to nearly a still point. Martha checked his heartsbeat-- almost not there. He wasn’t kidding when he said he would appear dead. 

Sighing, she looked for some place to sit. She had the feeling she would be in the room for quite some time. 

*** 

Burning, burning, burning, burning, pressure, pressure, pressure... silence. Silence? No, a welcoming, familiar presence, enveloping her, protecting her from the ravages the metacrisis was putting her grey matter through. Donna sighed... and remembered everything. 

She gasped, overwhelmed with her missing memories and worried that she would explode with remembrance. Her head remained firmly attached to the rest of her-- not that she was actually physically experiencing things at the moment, her mind was intertwined with the TARDIS while her body was in statis. Well, not really statis, because she was actually experiencing the moment on some quantum level, and-- 

“Oi, shut it, Spaceman,” Donna growled. “You’re not helping!” 

“Oh, but I am! Open your eyes, Donna.” 

She hadn’t realised her eyes were closed (on whatever metaphysical quantum plane she was apparently functioning on currently). She opened them, and found herself bathed in golden light. She could make out no details of her location, really couldn’t see anything but the light... and an achingly familiar skinny bloke with anime hair, a striped suit, and a dazzling smile. “Hello,” the Doctor said, waggling his fingers at her. 

“You!” 

“Yep.” 

She shook her head, feeling overwhelmed in a good way. 

“You all right?” 

“Will be. You here to fix me?” 

“Wellll.... yes and no.” The Doctor rubbbed the back of his neck, looking somewhat sheepish. “I mean, this glow, yeah? That’s Time Lord healing energy. I’m just the manifestation of the Time Lord bits stuck in your brain.” 

“So, you’re not the Doctor.” 

“Not really. But, yes, absolutely.” 

“I’m not sure I missed this.” Donna folded her arms across her chest. “Just because you’re not real doesn’t mean I can’t slap you from here to Omicron Ceti III if you don’t start talking sense.” 

“Omicron Ceti III? Really? Really???” 

“Doctor....” 

“Oh, fine. Look, the Doctor’s healing energy has been hijacked by the TARDIS in order to help sort you out.” 

“What? He’s been hurt? But--” 

“Plenty of time to sort him out later. For now, though-- I need your help.” He waved his hands; the golden mist lifted enough to reveal a colorful mashup of glowing spaghetti surrounding them. “We’ve got to sort out what belongs to you and what belongs to me in this mess.” 

“So I can stop having headaches?” 

“And so you can retain your memories. Let’s get to work.” He plucked a strand of copper-colored filament from the floating jumble. “Ah, here we are, right at the beginning, you in your wedding dress materialising in my TARDIS....” He placed the filament in Donna’s hand. “This will be weird, because we’ll both be experiencing it from both our viewpoints. You need to claim what’s yours and I’ll claim what’s mine-- go!” 

Donna saw herself materialise in the TARDIS even as she felt herself do so. Feeling it-- “Mine!” she called. Anger, annoyance-- “Mine!” 

Surprise whipped by her. “Mine!” The Doctor claimed. 

They carried on in this manner through all of their shared memories. 

**

“What do you mean I can’t see her?” Wilf demanded, standing on what he considered the wrong side of the infirmary door. He had wheeled a tray laden with a teapot, cups, and biscuits back from the kitchen. He peeked over Martha’s head to see what was going on in the room. 

Martha gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mott, but the Doctor specifically said you weren’t to come in. Not until he’s done.” 

“Yes, but what’s he doing? I don’t hear anything but monitors in there.” He tried to peer around Martha. “Is he lying down? He’s lying down! The nerve of--” He gasped suddenly. “What’s going on?” 

Martha turned around. A wispy golden mist floated in between the two gurneys, enveloping both the Doctor and Donna’s heads in a yellowish sparkly glow. “I don’t think that’s supposed to happen!” She quickly checked both status monitors. 

“He’s regenerating again!” Wilf exclaimed, stepping into the room. “I saw that kind of glow last time, right after he saved me....” 

“Healing trance,” Martha corrected. “But it’s the weirdest thing-- both of them show increased brain activity.” 

“But I thought Donna was in stasis.” 

“She is-- and yet, the brainwave indicators are jiggling as if active.” Martha sighed. “I don’t know what to make of it all.” 

“Well, I’m going to sit here and keep an eye on things.” Wilf wheeled the teacart into the room before plopping down into the chair Martha had been using. “Why don’t you help yourself to a cuppa or something, Martha?”

*****

“Oi! Spaceman! Now what?” Donna demanded, holding onto a huge, squirmy bundle of copper-colored memory lines. 

The Doctor struggled to contain his own bundle. “You absorb it.” 

“I _what?!_ "

“Like this.” The Doctor brought his arms to his chest, shoving the bundle into himself until it had all disappeared inside. 

Donna imitated him. As the last bit of memory reabsorbed, she stumbled, clutching her stomach. “Ugh!” 

“Yeah, makes one a little sick. It’ll pass.” 

“It had better, Sunshine.” She breathed deeply and in a moment or two the sensation passed. She glared at the Doctor. “All right, Spaceman, what happens next?” 

“Wellll... that’s a little complicated,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ideally, I go away and you pop out of stasis, and your brain finishes repairing itself, and you wake up in the TARDIS med bay perfectly healed and perfectly you.” 

“And what’s gonna keep that from happening?” Donna demanded, folding her arms across her chest. 

“Don’t you know?” 

“Of course I don’t know, you moron! I’m not some bloody know-it-all Time Lord!” 

The Doctor grinned. “Good!” 

Donna looked nonplussed. “What do you mean, ‘good’?” 

“If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then we’ve pretty much separated, and you can go on being the brilliant, memory-intact most important person in the universe that you are.” He started fading away. 

“Where are you going?” Donna asked, rushing to him and trying to grab onto his steadily disappearing hand. 

“Oh, being reabsorbed into the TARDIS, probably. Don’t think Himself would want me back. He’s gone beyond me now....” 

“What the hell does that mean?” 

“That would be tell....” The Doctor disappeared. 

The golden glow which had filled the undefined space dissipated, leaving Donna in a blank white space. “Oh, this is just bloody marvellous!” A soft hum filled her ears as a gentle presence brushed against her mind. She broke into a fond smile. “Hello, you,” she said. A peaceful feeling enveloped her, reassuring her that, no matter what happened next, everything would be fine. A dreamy look on her face, she closed her eyes..... 

**

The Doctor suddenly sat up, wincing at the stab of pain in his hip. “Kroll bless it and roll it in panko!” 

Martha rushed to his side. “Doctor? What’s wrong?” 

“The TARDIS hijacked my healing energy, that’s what’s wrong.” 

“You’d better explain in small words,” Wilf commented. 

“Well, basically... when I went into the healing trance, the TARDIS used that energy to heal Donna, not me. So she’s back to being an amazing human being with no trace of metacrisis in her, and I’m stuck with a painful hip.” 

“But that’s a good thing, surely?” Wilf asked. 

“Of course it’s a good thing! But it’s also annoying because I’m not at my best in pain.” 

Martha gave the Time Lord a stern look. “We are in the med bay, Doctor. Which means it’s fully stocked with Time Lord pain relievers.” 

“Yes, yes, yes, of course, but they’re all designed to knock me out, not dull the pain. What I need-- what I desperately need-- is the equivalent to a paracetamol.” He thought a moment, then hopped off the gurney, gasping at the pain as he landed. “Perfect! Aspartame! I’m sure Pond’s left some of her nasty diet fizzy drinks about....” He hobbled toward the door. 

“Doctor--” began Martha. 

“To the kitchen, Doctor Jones, no time to lose!” He left the room, popping back in long enough to add, “Oh, and you can take Donna out of stasis. That big red button.” 

Martha and Wilf exchanged glances and shrugs. Martha turned to Donna’s monitor and pressed the suggested button. The stasis field vanished; the monitor registered proper vital signs. 

“I suppose we should join him,” Martha said. 

Wilf shook his head. “I’m going to stay here with my girl, if it’s all the same to you.” 

“Fair enough.” Martha left. Wilf pulled up the chair to be nearer his granddaughter, and settled in, holding her hand gently. 

***** 

Martha found the Doctor on his second can of Diet Coke. holding his nose as he chugged. When the can was empty, he tossed it against a wall and shuddered. “Nasty stuff, that. Still, feeling loads better now. Hardly a twinge of pain.” 

“Well, don’t over do it, anyway,” Martha cautioned. “I’m sure you have a suitably long-winded explanation as to why you can’t go back into your healing trance right away.” 

“Oh, I do, and it involves all sorts of delightful phrases like ‘post-traumatic imbalances’ and ‘swollen lymph glands.’ I’ll give you the executive summary, though-- the energy has to build back up, and that takes a bit of time. So for now, I have to heal like a human. In a manner of speaking, of course, because obviously even healing slowly for me would be healing much too quickly for an actual human.” The Doctor turned a chair around and straddled it, motioning his friends to join him sitting. “In any case, there are bigger problems to solve.” 

“Like?” Martha prompted. “Donna’s not in further trouble, is she?" 

The Doctor patted Martha’s hand. “No, no, she’s going to be brilliant. No, the problem is mine. And... well, actually, I’d rather be facing Davros and the entire Dalek fleet than dealing with this, but....” He shook his head. “Too responsible in this regeneration, me.” 

“You’re not making any sense.” 

The Time Lord looked sheepish. “Martha, if you were to think of all the things I’m rubbish at, what’s the worst?” 

She thought about it a moment. “Relationships.” 

“Exactly.” 

“Ah, you need to sort things out with Donna.” Martha smiled knowingly. “Never thought I’d see you in this position, Doctor.” 

“I’ve sorted it out with Sarah, you know. And Jo. And I’d like to think, you, too, Martha. It’s just....” Sighing, he propped his forearms on the table and rested his forehead in the palms of his hands. “I feel so much guiltier now. In this body. For all that I don’t really get the nuances of human interaction, I still chastise myself for getting it wrong.” 

Martha’s voice was kind. “So you’d like my help to figure out what to do.” 

He didn’t look up. “Yes, please.” 

“All right.” Martha stood. “I’ll put the kettle back on.” 

The Doctor looked up. “What in the universe are you doing? I bare my soul and you’re arranging a snack!” 

“You haven’t begun to bare, yet, Doctor, and really, you’re going to need some tea and sympathy when you do.” Martha checked the tea supply. “Earl grey, lapsang souchong, or peu eh?” 

“Oh, peu eh, that’ll help with restoring my healing batteries.” He sighed. “Thank you.” 

Martha placed the plate of jammie dodgers on the table. “Don’t thank me just yet,” she said, hugging him quickly before sitting back down. “Thank me if my forthcoming advice works.” 

*****

The telephone rang in the empty console room. Eventually, the answering machine kicked in. After the beep, a faux-grumpy Scottish girl’s voice filled the room. “You really don’t ever answer your phone, do you, Doctor? Anyway, it’s Amy. We’ve gotten to the Bahamas and they’ve completely messed up our reservations, to the point where there’s literally no room at the inn. We were wondering if you’d come give us a lift forward a few days. No rush. You got a time machine, so you can leave any time and arrive right now. Ring us when you materialise.” The phone clicked off; coordinate settings changed; the TARDIS headed for the Bahamas. 

***

Martha placed the teapot in front of the Doctor and set a pair of mugs next to it. The Doctor gave her a thankful look. “I’ll pour.” She passed him a filled mug, helped herself to a dodger, and asked, “So... how are you going to solve a problem like Donna?” 

“Well, I’m, erm... it’s...” He took a dodger and examined it carefully. “Really wonderful how these are put together, isn’t it?” 

Martha chuckled. “Don’t try to change the topic, Doctor. “ 

“It’s just, well... she wanted to let her die, rather than have a living death reverting to how she was before she was. She was my best mate. I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t. So I wiped her memories against her will. You could call in a mind-rape, if you were so inclined.” He hung his head in shame. 

“Doctor-- you did it to save her life.” 

“Against her express wishes!”

“She wasn’t in her right mind! You have to take that into consideration.” 

“But still--” 

“But still nothing, mister. She’s alive, and now she’s healed, and she will be very grateful.” 

“Once she slaps from one end of the universe to the other.” 

Martha chuckled. “Well, there is that to consider. But sometimes, you have to take the slap. If you want any hope of being able to pop in on her again, on a whim--” 

The Doctor sighed. “That’s the other thing. Will she want to still travel with me? Will she be able to tolerate the Ponds? Will she even tolerate me, in this new body?” 

“Doctor, you’re overthinking things. You were horrid to me, really, and I chose to leave, but here I am again.” 

“I was horrid to you?” the Time Lord looked shocked. “How was I horrid to you?” 

“Hmm... let’s see. Things like constantly going on about your ex-companion? And then turning yourself into a human and falling in love with someone who wasn’t me? And then getting yourself captured by the Master and having me walk around the planet for a year telling everyone about you, just so you could escape? And then wiping that year out of existence? How can it get worse?” She smiled again, to show she wasn’t upset. 

He grabbed Martha’s hands in his, looking intently into her eyes. “I’m sorry-- so, so sorry-- that I didn’t treat you better. It wasn’t my intent.” 

Hearing “her” Doctor’s phraseology out of his current incarnation’s mouth made her smile fondly. “Well, at least you’ve apologised properly. Perhaps if you do the same to Donna...” 

“As if that’s going to help. Oncoming Bastard, that’s me.” 

“Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself, Doctor. Superior beings mess up, too. You’re not special in that respect. Doesn’t matter that you’re the last of your kind. You’re still sometimes a bastard. And sometimes... most times.... you’re really quite wonderful.”

A small smile graced his face. “Yeah, I am, aren’t I?” 

“And not a bit egotistical.” Martha stood. “I’m going to check on our patient. You stay here and formulate that apology, all right?” 

“All right.” He reached for a jammie dodger, munching on it thoughtfully as his former companion left the room. 

*****

Martha checked the readout. “All vital signs normal, Mr. Mott. Donna should come around soon.” 

“Well, thank goodness for that.” Wilf sighed. “It’s never easy with His Lordship, is it?” 

“No, not really. He likes trouble.” 

“Can’t get enough of it. Just wish he had more people around him, that’s all. He needs someone to tell him to behave.” 

A soft moan from the bed made them both rush to Donna’s side. “Donna! It’s your Gramps. Can you hear me?” 

“Yeah, yeah, Gramps, no need to shout.” Donna opened her eyes and smiled at the pair who looked down on her. “Oh my God, Martha! I know you! I remember you! And my head doesn’t hurt!” She sat up, taking in the familiarity of the medical bay. “I’m on the TARDIS! Oh, brilliant!” She sat up, swinging her legs over in preparation for standing. “where’s that skinny streak of nothing?” 

“Oh, the Doctor, he’s taking care of some business in the bowels of the ship,” Martha lied, knowing that the Doctor would want to make his apology when he was braced enough to do so. “He should be around in a bit.” 

Donna hopped off the bed. “I’m going to see the TARDIS, then. Visit the control room, see if anything’s different. Who’s coming?” Without waiting for a reply, she bounded out of the room. Martha and Wilf shrugged and followed. 

They found Donna in the control room, gazing around the room, awestruck at the transformation it had undergone. “Look at this! Just look at this!” she said as they entered. “It’s bloody fantastic! I had no idea he could remodel her!” She caressed a console panel. “Who’s a pretty time-space machine, then?” 

“Um, Donna,” Martha began, “The console room’s not the only thing that’s been remodeled.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well--” 

“We’re moving!” Donna exclaimed suddenly. She pointed at the time rotor. “Look! I wonder where we’re off to?” She noticed a flashing red light on one of the panels. “I bet this has something to do with it.” She pressed the button next to the light; the console room reverberated with Amy’s voice mail. The companions exchanged looks as the message ended. 

“Current companion?” Wilf suggested. “But What’s this ‘we’, though?” 

“Oh, he travels with more than one person from time to time. For awhile it was him and me and and Martha....” 

Wilf glanced at Martha. “I thought you were...?” 

“Oh, I got a second series, as it were,” Martha commented, shrugging. “Made me glad to be off the TARDIS, actually.” 

Wilf’s eyebrows drew together. “So, do you think we’re heading toward the Bahamas?” 

The doctor nodded. “Probably set the TARDIS to go wherever the voicemail said,” Donna added. 

The time rotor shuddered to a stop. 

“Well,” Wilf pointed out, “let’s find out if we’re right.” 

“Allons-y!” suggested Donna. 

“Allons-y!” agreed Martha, palming the door control. 

Donna poked her head out of the TARDIS. “Ooh, hello tropics!” She stepped out, allowing her grandfather and Martha to join her. 

“I suddenly feel overdressed,” the doctor commented, taking in all the scantily-clad vacationers. 

“Oh, this is absolutely brilliant!” Donna bounced out onto the beach, arms wide open as if trying to absorb as much of the atmosphere as possible. 

Wilf’s forehead wrinkled. “D’ you think she’s all right?” he murmured to Martha. 

“Physically, yeah. Mentally-- I have no idea. Hopefully she’s just happy she has all her memories back.” 

“A little too manic, though, for that?” Wilf suggested. 

Martha shrugged. “Couldn’t say. I mean, I know her, but not that-- hello!” 

Wilf followed Martha’s gaze. A handsome couple in shorts and t-shirts dragging luggage with them trotted up to the TARDIS. “Where’s the Doctor?” demanded the woman, young and leggy and ginger and Scottish. 

“And who are you?” the man added. He was as tall as the woman, with sandy hair, a prominent nose, and an air of calm capability about him. 

Martha stepped forward. “I presume you’re Amy?” she said. “I’m Martha Smith-Jones, and this is Wilfred Mott. We’re both friends of the Doctor.” 

The girl smiled. “Well, if I had known it was going to be former companion week, I wouldn’t have insisted on coming here.” 

“Well, at least you finally admit it was your idea.....” 

“Shut it, you.” She slapped her companion playfully on the arm. “This is my husband, Rory,” she told everyone else. 

A piercing whistle attracted their attention; Donna had found a table and was waving everyone over. 

“Hen party in the making,” Wilf chuckled. 

“Who’s that?” Amy asked. “Is that Donna?” 

“You’ve heard of Donna?” Martha asked. 

“I’ve heard of you, too, if that makes any difference.” She handed over her suitcase to her husband, kissed him on the cheek, and beelined for the other ginger. Martha shrugged, joining the other women. 

“And I get stuck with the baggage, as always,” Rory sighed. 

“Come on, lad, let’s get those inside and find some lounge chairs. We can enjoy the sun away from all the chit-chat.” Wilf opened the TARDIS door and attempted to help the younger man with the luggage. 

**

Sometime later, The Doctor emerged from the TARDIS. “Well, this is nice, if unexpected,” he commented. “But why here-- oh, hello, Rory.” The Time Lord spotted the two men lounging a bit away from the TARDIS, sunglasses on and fancy drinks in their hands. “Too much honeymooning?” 

“They messed our reservations up, and Amy wanted to take the fast track to when they’d be sorted out, so she rung you up. Didn’t you hear the message?” 

“No, too busy sorting Donna.” The Doctor wrestled a lounge chair over next to Wilf and threw himself in it. He crossed his arms across his chest and scowled at the trio across the way. 

Wilf patted his knee consolingly. “They’re probably talking about more than just you, son.” 

The women’s laughter drifted over to them. “I doubt it. And what are we supposed to do, while they mock me?” 

“Talk about sport?” Rory suggested. “Latest telly shows? The state of the government?” 

“Boring, Rory, boring boring.” 

“Well, then,” Wilf said, “we’ll just have to talk about them. Tell us how you met Martha, Doctor. Must be a dandy story there.” 

“Oh, all right. I was in my previous incarnation, pretending to be a patient at Royal Hope Hospital in order to investigate some shenanigans....” 

***** 

“All right, I have to know,” Donna said finally. “Who’s that third bloke?” She pointed vaguely at the trio sitting in the TARDIS shade. “I mean, I know my grandad, of course, and that’s Rory the Nurse, but who’s the other one?” 

“Hey! How do you know my husband’s name? Let alone what he does?” Amy demanded. 

“I hit him with my car this morning. Well, I think it was this morning. It’s ‘this morning’ to me, at least. In any case, if he’s your husband, you should work on his wardrobe. Bowties? Really?” 

“Oh, no, Bowtie Boy isn’t Rory. That’s the Doctor. Rory’s in the shorts and t-shirt.” 

“That’s the Doctor?” Sadness washed over her. “He really has changed, hasn’t he? And just when I’m finally back to myself, too.” 

Martha soothed, “But you’ll soon get used to the new face... and underneath, it’s still the Doctor.” 

Amy smiled suddenly. “Let’s have some fun, yeah? Donna, go up to Rory and act like he’s the Doctor.” 

“Ooh, get the Doctor back for saying he was Rory.” Donna clearly liked the idea. 

Martha frowned. “To be fair, he had to tell you he was someone else, Donna, it’s not like you were allowed to remember him at that point.” 

“Yeah, but still, it would be funny,” Amy encouraged. 

Donna looked over at the Doctor, catching him stare back at her wistfully. All thoughts of teasing him dissipated. Instead, she left the other women and planted her feet firmly in front of the Time Lord. She held her hand out, waggling her fingers at him like he used to do at her. “Come on, Spaceboy, let’s go walkies.” 

“Spaceboy, is it?” The Doctor challenged, trying hard not to grin. 

“Well, with that face, you can hardly be a man, can you?” She winked at him. He took her hand, stood, and let her lead him off from the others. They walked along the water for a bit, enjoying holding hands again. Although his hand felt different, it still felt the same in the important ways. “Oh, I’ve missed this.” 

“How can you miss something you didn’t remember until today?” 

“You took away my memories and left nothing in return. There was a Doctor-shaped hole there that refused to be filled up.” 

“Yes, well, sorry about that.” 

“You should have let me die.”

 “I couldn’t.” He stopped, spinning her around to face him. “A universe without Donna Noble scarcely bears thinking about. Besides, if you were alive, being brilliant somewhere--” She snorted and looked away; he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “--being brilliant somewhere, then I would have time to figure out how to fix you. And I did. Sort of.” 

“Sort of?” She pulled her chin out of his grip. “What do you mean, ‘sort of,’ Sunshine? Are you telling me this is only temporary? That I’m going to burn up and die? Or, worse, be stuck in Chiswick without all my memories again? How dare you!” She slapped him hard. 

Stunned, the Doctor rubbed his face for a moment. His happiness, though, soon overcame the pain. “Oh, I’ve missed that.” Seeing Donna was winding up for a second one, though, he hastily added, “and I meant ‘sort of’ in the sense that the TARDIS did most of the work in fixing you. It hijacked my healing energies to do so.” 

“Healing energies?” 

“Yes, you know, you hit me with your car this morning. Banged up my hip something awful.” 

“Doesn’t look like it’s bothering you now.” 

“Aspartame makes a wonderful pain reliever.” He grabbed her hand again, yanking gently so they could resume their stroll. “But enough about me. How about you? And us?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you didn’t exactly leave the TARDIS voluntarily.....” 

“Do you want me to come with you again?” 

“If you’d like.” 

“What about your current companions?” 

“Amy and Rory? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” 

“Would you mind?” 

“Of course not. You’re one of my best friends, Donna.” 

Donna shook her head. “I was, once. Now... I don’t know. You’re not the same skinny streak of nothing. You’re more angular, more posh, more youthful.... the difference might be too much to get used to.” 

“Yes, well, you’re thinner now, aren’t you? And no fringe.” 

“And older.” 

The Doctor groaned. “For Kroll’s sake, Donna!” 

“Oh, fine, not that much older. Trouble is, though... Gramps. Not as healthy as he was. I wouldn’t want to go away and have something happen to him while I was larking about throughout all of space and time.” 

“You know we could get to his side the moment we heard something had happened.....” 

“I’d rather not take that risk, actually. But... tell you what. You come back when he passes, yeah? I can’t think of a better thing to do than to scatter his ashes amongst the stars.” 

He heard the hitch in her voice. He caught her in a tight hug. She burst into tears. He let her cry, refusing to let go of her until her sobs died out. Once satisfied she was done, he pulled her down onto the warm sand, letting her lean against him as she had from time to time when they travelled together. “Sorry, Donna, didn’t want to make you cry.” 

“S’alright, Spaceboy. I think I’ve needed to do that for months, now.” 

“It’s been a long day for you.” 

“I feel like I’ve been awake forever, I’m that tired. That’s normal, right?” 

The Doctor shrugged. “Well, as normal as can be expected, with what you went through. And then embarking on an adventure the moment you woke up. You’re running on adrenaline, which is the one thing you’re low on.” 

“Do you have a prescription for me, then, Doctor?” 

“Well, as your attending physician, I recommend we return to the TARDIS and get you home. Then you get some sleep, and we’ll see how you feel in the morning.” 

“Does that mean you’ll stick around? Won’t that bother the honeymooners?” 

“Oh, honeymoons are relative, just like time.” He helped her stand; they kept their fingers entwined as they returned to the TARDIS. “Come along you lot,” he called as he passed the table with the other companions, “Chiswick Express due to depart in a few minutes’ time.” 

Martha immediately followed the Doctor and Donna inside. Wilf helped Rory move the lounge chairs back to their rack, then joined the others in the TARDIS. 

Amy grabbed Rory’s arm as he started inside. “Aren’t we staying?” 

“They’ve messed up our reservations. We might as well go.” 

“But--” 

“It’s not like we’d be seeing any of the scenery, anyway. Besides, I thought you wanted to try out that one hanging chair in the library....?” 

“I thought you didn’t.” 

“Changed my mind.” 

Amy squeezed his arm with delight. “In we go, then, Mr Pond!” 

*****

The TARDIS landed across the street from Wilf’s house. The Doctor saw both Wilf and Donna inside, then returned to his ship. “All right, who else is getting out here?” 

“That would be me,” Martha said. She gave the Doctor a hug, then stretched up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. “I still got your number, mister,” she said playfully. 

“Don’t hesitate to use it,” the Time Lord said, smiling. 

Martha, smiling, left, calling, “Nice to meet you Ponds,” over her shoulder as she left. 

The Doctor flipped the door switch. “Well, there you go, a blast from my past.” 

“She seemed quite nice,” Rory remarked. 

“What’s next on the agenda?” Amy asked. 

“Well, I’m going to do some repairs, and you’re going to do whatever it is you’ve been doing the past few weeks....” 

Rory sighed. “Chair time....” 

“Chair time!” Amy squealed. 

“I don’t want to know. And keep it down, please!” 

“Yes, Doctor.” Amy took her husband’s hand and pulled him upstairs. 

The Time Lord removed his coat, dug out his sonic again, and headed for his favorite spot underneath the control console. As he got to work, the TARDIS hummed happily, soothing his mind and lifting his mood, even as he subconsciously processed everything and everyone he had met that day. 

Soon, he drifted off into sleep, which became a healing trance as his body decided to finish fixing the hip. The sonic screwdriver slipped out of his slack hand, bouncing to the grated floor. 

*****

Donna leaned out of her window, gazing happily at the blue police box across the street. She felt like she could sleep a week-- and yet she didn’t want to go to bed, afraid that if she did, the TARDIS wouldn’t be there when she woke up. She knew the Doctor wanted to run-- he always wanted to run-- but she also wanted to sort things out with him, now, while it was all fresh. 

All too fresh, she amended. Such a long day, so much happened.... She should go to bed. As soon as she studied the TARDIS for another few moments. She propped her head up on a hand. A moment later, she rested her head on both her arms on the windowsill. A few moments after that, she fell asleep. 

***** 

Donna wasn’t sure at first if she were dreaming... or remembering. She stood in the familiar coral TARDIS console room, its warm browns and oranges and comforting flat levelness making her grin with pleasure. A pair of legs in brown pinstripes and cream trainers peeked out from underneath the control console, the high-pitched whirl of the sonic screwdriver playing a happy countertune to the idling hum of the TARDIS. “Aw, you’re always tinkering with her, Doctor. Most people, you know, read or watch telly or surf the internet when bored.” 

“People?” The Doctor slid out from underneath the console and glared at her through his brainy specs. “I ain’t people!” He smiled then, tucking away his sonic screwdriver in a jacket pocket and standing. “Besides, Real-Life me is currently underneath Sexy’s console, healing.” 

“Ah, dream then,” Donna commented. “Explains why you look like your proper self, and not like that gangly, angled spaceboy.” 

“Something more, I should think.” The Doctor rubbed the side of his neck in thought, pulling his hand back suddenly to better glare at it. “That’s old. Or maybe it’s new again.” 

“Oi! Make some sense, Spaceman! If this isn’t a dream, what is it?” 

“A junction in the space-time continuum.” 

“And we’re here because....?” 

“Welllll.....” he rubbed the back of his neck again. “I think Sexy’s trying to make it easy for us.” 

“Sexy? You mean--” 

The Doctor nodded. 

“You don’t really call her that, do you?” 

“She doesn’t seem to mind.” 

“But, ‘Sexy’...? Does she have a special slot in her console, then, for you to--” 

“Donna!” 

She folded her arms across her chest and gave him one of her no-nonsense looks. 

“All right. You’re sleeping, I’m in a healing trance, and the TARDIS has put us in this recreation of our glory days so that we can talk.” 

Donna frowned. “Talk?  I thought we had already talked. And I really don’t need a staged setting in order to talk!” 

The Doctor shrugged. “I agree. Perhaps she’s doing this so that when we do talk, we talk easier? Real-Me has gotten good-- well, be fair, better at-- not that I had any ability before, of course, but even gaining a smidgen of comfortableness with-- hold on, is ‘comfortableness’ even a word because, if it is-- ow!” He rubbed his cheek where Donna had slapped it. “Running on again, was I?” 

“What do you think, Sunshine?” 

“Right, so, basically--” The TARDIS’ central column shuddered to a stop. “--Basically, this is probably just a lucid dream, and since we’ve landed, let’s see what’s out there!” He grabbed Donna’s hand and pulled her toward the door. 

********* 

Donna startled awake, the sense of being on some beautiful alien world running for her life with the Doctor’s hand in hers flittering out of her mind. She still sat at the window; looking down, she saw the morning sunlight bounce off the TARDIS. 

The door opened;  Amy popped into the doorway, tying a robe around herself. She spotted Donna in the window and waved. “Good morning!” she called. 

Donna waved back. “Himself up yet?” 

“Like he ever sleeps. Come over for breakfast! Rory’s making his famous cheddar bacon scones.” 

“Aw, good for you, a man that can actually cook!” 

“I’m so lucky,” Amy agreed. 

“Tell you what-- I’ll be over in a bit, just want to pop in the shower for a moment.” 

“Okay. We’ll have the kettle on for you.” Amy ducked back inside the TARDIS, closing the doors after her. 

Donna smiled. She could learn to like it, the TARDIS popping up in her backyard every so often, offering breakfast and adventuring. She knew she had a lot to work out in her head still about the whole DoctorDonna experience. For now, though, that could wait. She had her best friend back, her memories back, and had cheddar bacon scones waiting for her. Grabbing some clothes, she grinned at the police box one more time before going to shower.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
